


if you get this, i’m sorry.

by deltachye



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Angst, One Shot, Other, Tragic Romance, for my boy who deserved the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x shusei kagari]If only he believed in tomorrow, he might still have you.





	if you get this, i’m sorry.

Kagari Shuusei is no good.

He already knows it. It’s all he’s ever been told. How do you look a five-year-old in the eye and tell them that they’ll never amount to anything? Before they’ve even begun?

You should know, too, and yet you’re still here.

He never planned on making lots of friends. Honestly, he never really thought he’d make _any_ friends with actual, real people. There isn’t a spectacular array of options in the rehab centre. Marginally better options as an enforcer with the CID. He’s hardly seen the world outside of four walls and a roof. At most he expected to get to know other cops, and that was it. You aren’t a cop. And yet… you’re still _here_.

It started with teasing. _“Careful. Don’t you know I’m a bad boy?”_ Stupid lines like that. Things that make him cringe to think back on. Nursing was one of the few careers that was unable to be completely automated as the future dawned. There’d been experiments, but the studies showed that a lack of human contact decreased general health and recovery.

Funny, right? Isolating people doesn’t do them any good? Ha fucking ha.

In any case you were one of few. It took a very special aptitude from Sibyl to be accepted into a medical field. From what he’d heard from word of mouth, the academics were gruelling, and the training was more dangerous than most. The toll of dealing with the ill on Psycho-Passes was significant. Yet some people were crazy enough to choose to do it anyways (assuming Sibyl gave the OK, of course. Nothing without Sibyl’s permission).

You were the first face he saw when he woke up after getting a paralyzer shot to the ass, and stupidly he’d thought you were some angel and he’d died.

It hadn’t been much. He was probably just touch-starved, honestly, but the way your fingertips grazed over his skin had practically sent his heart into cardiac arrest. He had no allergies, but the way his throat closed up whenever you’d look at him said otherwise. It wasn’t very hard to figure out. He, the poor patient, had a crush on the cute nurse. Simple as pie. When he got better he’d leave, go back to everyday drudgery and work, and keep thinking about the cute nurse now and then. He’d wish woefully they could be together and live a long, happy life.

Fat shit, but a guy can dream.

He was an annoying patient, ringing the call bell for stupid things like _“Can I get another blanket? I’m feeling chilly (even though the room temperature is always kept at ambient room temperature).”_ and _“Sorry to bother you, but do you know when the next meal’s coming (even though it’s written right on the wall)?_ ” Though you didn’t ever seem annoyed with him, always popping into his room with the same brightening grin. You weren’t like Kunizuka or Karanomori, firmly disinterested, even in playing around. You had some mischief to you. Some bite. He figured he’d enjoy it while it lasted.

After all, everything good comes to a cold, startling end.

It kind of makes sense to have a medical bay in the Public Safety Bureau tower. Might as well have something that important kept local. But because of the leash kept on him like a noose, the only places he could go by himself were within this stupid building. If you had worked anywhere else, he would never have met you. At most, you might’ve walked past him while he was working on a case. And that would be it before it ever began. The thought of that already burnt his gut with cold acid. He couldn’t let it go. Maybe he was childish in that way, but he didn’t want to lose something he’d just gotten. So as his discharge dawned closer, he had nothing to lose when he asked,

_“Would you come back to my place?”_

He’s honestly still shocked you agreed. After all, latent criminals had been locked away to protect the “wanted” society of Japan. Everybody else’s Crime Coefficients might go up, like a flu would hop from person to person. Weren’t people like him diseased? Dangerous?

You apparently have no problem with that notion.

He’s nervous when you walk in with wide, careful eyes. Unsurprisingly, he has never been on a date before, minus when he third wheels the romances he’s seen on old timey films. His cleaning and decorating skills are sub-par, but he hopes the flashy lights from his game collection might impress you. When he glances down at your face to check your expression, the whimsical reds and blue give you an almost melancholy look. Something secretive and raw, like the soft face under porcelain masks. It freezes you and him in time as points of lights flash in your eyes like galaxies of captured stars.

It’s hasty. Too hasty by far. He shouldn’t have kissed you then, but he does, compelled by a force. Loneliness? Lust? Idiocy?

Your warmth is shockingly sweet and snaps him out of his carnal instincts, reminding him of a thing called common sense. He moves to stumble away reflexively, but a hand lands on his arm, keeping him close. It’s almost claw-like. You’re clearly more experienced with this kind of thing and lean forwards into him, pressing on your tippy toes. It feels like he’s about to faint when he feels the light tip of your tongue brush against his bottom lip, coaxing him. He realizes you already knew all along just how much power you held over his head; you were just too kind to gloat.

Even within four walls and a roof, it feels like he’s floating endlessly.

He doesn’t want to let you go, but you’re the first to step away. It’s the difference that separates you and him. You believe in tomorrow, but he only knows today. He only ever knows today because there _is_ no tomorrow for him. It reminds him that you aren’t safe.

Nothing hurts more than having to let you go, but it’s so much worse when you beg to stay.

The days all seem a little colder, a little shorter, a little darker once he cuts you out. It isn’t that hard to avoid you, even though the both of you work in the same building; he’s a little hunting dog to Sibyl, yet he feels more like a rat, scurrying in sewers and living in constant cowardice. After a while you seem to believe the lie that he was just leading you on the whole time as a fun plaything and back off. Or maybe you just get sick of chasing after his back when he’s too afraid to face you. Either way, he doesn’t feel any relief.

He swore to move on, but who is he to make promises? So one day, out of the many where he feels like he misses you so much he can’t bear it, he catches a glimpse of you through a window of the medical bay. And he sees that same distant sorrow you’d shown when you first stood in his room. It’s worse now. Hollow. He could kiss it away. Right now, he could barge in and sweep you up into his arms off your feet. He could be the one to warm you until you smile again. And that smile—God, that beautiful smile—would radiate warmth like all the sun and stars.

Then somebody else walks up to you, brushing their hand across your jaw. You lean into the touch and a tiny smile twitches on your lips. It’s nothing like the ones you used to give him when he succeeded in making you laugh. It’s empty and makes him feel nothing but anger. Still, it is a cold, painful punch to the gut when he realizes _you_ have moved on without him. After all, you believe in tomorrow.

He wishes he had, too. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be here. Maybe hope heals after all. Maybe he could’ve believed if he tried.

But it’s late. When he faces the barrel of the Dominator, its light blindingly electric blue like the ones in his room, he wishes he was wrong, and you were right. But maybe you _are_ right in believing that there’s a future—for _you_. And he, now, is definitely right in thinking that there’s nothing left for him.

He shouldn’t have written the letter in the first place. You’re his first love, but he’s sure he wasn’t yours. He doesn’t know if you even remember him anymore, much less think of him. Hadn’t he vowed to move on? It was worse that he was going to haunt you now even after he’d gone. It was unfair of him to do this to you, and he knew it. But he was no good.

When you receive the e-letter titled “IF YOU GET THIS, I’M SORRY”, your tears

are hot.

**Author's Note:**

> support my writing? www.ko-fi.com/deltachye  
> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/tagged/chye%27s-fics


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